


Hurt

by unavoidablekoishi



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidablekoishi/pseuds/unavoidablekoishi





	Hurt

 

When you have a lot of time on your hands, you tend to dwell heavily on the past- he knew this all too well and sometimes, he wish he didn’t.

 

Part of him wanted to go straight back to prison. He’d be alone, surviving for no reason other than to die by someone else’s hand. Somehow, that seemed like the sweeter deal.

 

Contrary to popular opinion, he was an emotional person. He was just better at masking it with a plain face and encouraging words when in actuality he was hurting and hurting more than they would ever realise- but pointing that out would be pretty selfish, right?

 

It wasn’t like anybody really cared about him anyway.

 

He hated having emotions- he hated wanting things and one of those things was...well, companionship, he supposed. Sure, he didn’t really deserve friends but somehow that didn’t keep him from wanting them. Especially when there was 15 other students, at most, who willingly talked to him.

 

He wanted them just to fuck off and leave him be. Strange, right, for somebody who wants companionship so bad, he just wants to be left alone.

 

He liked to think he’d grown over the past few years- left behind a few toxic feelings and improved himself in general but he could always feel when he was slipping beneath the waves and it filled him with dread to know that the cycle would repeat again and he’d be left broken and the worst part, the worst part- would be it was entirely his fault.

 

And that’s not self-deprecation- that’s not irrationally blaming yourself for something that can’t really be controlled- it was quite literally his own fault and he hated himself for it.

 

He never mentioned this to any of the others. He expected their reaction to be, ‘That’s not really your fault’ or ‘It’s okay’ or ‘Everybody feels like that’ because that was just dismissing how he felt and sometimes, just sometimes, maybe always, he wanted them all to hate him.

 

He’d rather be hated than liked. That way, he’d have nothing to lose.

 

That wasn’t to say he didn’t respect the others- they were incredible in their own ways. Akamatsu was kind, charming and overwhelmingly bold but in such a way you couldn’t hate her- not to mention her talent was incredible and bought solace to others.

 

Toujou went without saying- she put everybody else’s needs above her own and performed her own duties with skill, being the Ultimate Maid, and Hoshi wished he, too, could be happy to help others without any regard for himself.

 

There was even Momota, as useless as his talent was in this setting, it promised something greater and his personality only served to boost himself to heights unreachable to him.

 

He envied them. There was no doubt about that. He felt lucky to have a talent to begin with, despite it being useless and even then he’d used it against people which made him the worst kind of person though he felt little guilt for it. Meanwhile everybody else was able to do something worthwhile and everybody else enjoyed that. They praised each other for it.

 

He cursed them for it.

 

He remembers talking to Saihara, he was pretty down that day, feeling something somewhat similar to him, but all he wanted to do was punch him in the face.

 

‘I don’t see why I should continue...I mean...I guess I enjoy what I do- I don’t think I deserve this kind of title- but...who am I really helping?’

 

Fuck you to the highest degree.

 

He didn’t say that. He calmly replied with a word of encouragement and a smile that ached so bad he wanted to cry, but he didn’t.

 

He wanted to desperately tell him otherwise. Your talent is amazing and everybody genuinely loves who you are and what you do, Saihara and Kaede were essentially the epicentre of the group and Saihara would just throw away his own talent because he didn’t understand why or who it could help- he’d killed people for fucks sake, his own talent wasn’t practical in any other setting that a tennis court, meanwhile people talked to him because hell, he was a part of their group, why not, am I right?

 

His own talent gave him nothing but a death sentence.

 

Yet still, he truly believed Saihara should continue to pursue his talent because, as he said, he enjoyed it and that was really the only way to live. Sure, Toujou lived for other people, but in turn, she enjoyed doing what she did.

 

Everybody did. Everybody enjoyed what they did- even Amami, who’s mystery talent was revealed to be ironically impractical, all except for him.

 

Except that wasn’t true. Deep down, he loved playing tennis, he still did and the lack of guilt for what he did made it even easier for him, but where did playing tennis really get him? He’d won a few competitions, won a few prizes, impressed a few chicks, but it didn’t help anybody else but him.

 

Not even that, his talent didn’t make him worth anybody’s time.

 

Everybody....they were just so much better than he was and he’d always had a competitive streak, but he hated feeling envious. He hated himself for feeling envious. He hated listening to them dismiss their own talents with a‘It’s not that great’ or ‘I think I might just give up’ he hated it, he hated it, he hated it, he--

 

Why couldn’t they see they were so much better than him? It hurt to see somebody with a talent better and more widely recognised by other people, only for them to shrug and say ‘whatever’ when he’d literally kill to be in their position.

 

That, in turn, made him resent the people around him, even though he knew it was irrational and undeserved, but that only fuelled the self-hatred and insecurity. He wanted to blend in with them, he wanted to feel like one of them, he wanted to belong with them.

 

But he never belongs, because he never really has, and that wasn’t such a problem. Everything passed him by and negative feelings disappeared with time, but this was the present and he was faced with such toxic emotions bubbling deep inside, he dreaded that fact he knew it was happening all over again.

 

Why did he have to be the way he was? Why couldn’t he be one of them?

 

‘Hey, it’ll take a bit of time to get adjusted, but you’ll be fine soon enough’

 

Bullshit.

 

He’d wasted so much time believing that but he knew better- if you don’t belong then you don’t belong. You can hope to sit at the sidelines and cheer everyone on but you aren’t one of them.

 

Even though it hurt, he knew it would fade and he knew deep down he didn’t care too much but for now...it hurt. It hurt and he wanted them all to hate him to save him the trouble of accidentally believing he was worth something.

 

You can’t lose what you don’t have.

 

Yet still, like the idiot he was, he returned to them, to sit at the sidelines and watch them belong, and he wondered why he felt so shitty all the time. It was his own fault for putting himself through that. It was his own fault for feeling the way and it was his own fault for not being good enough.

 

And the worst part about it is the fact he never understood just why he felt the way he did. Was he just a bad person? Was he selfish? He knew for a fact, he was, but he’d never say that aloud. He didn’t want the only interaction he had with people to devolve into pity. He knew for a fact they saw him as the Depressed Kid and he hated it- he hated it but maybe it was a well deserved title. He wouldn’t know. All he knew is that that title was what separated him from everybody else.

 

And despite wanting to fit in, he knew there would always be aspects that cut him off from the others. People were different and secretly, he wouldn’t always understand that. Especially if he was thinking emotionally instead of logically- the worst kind of thinking to him.

 

Of course, he’d force himself to sit in his own place and listen to them all even though it hurt, it hurt, it hurt so badly but that was where he belonged. He belonged by himself and not with them, therefore by himself is where he should stay.

 

He liked them. He genuinely liked them and if he didn’t, then he wanted to like them. He knew his resentment was unfair and based off his own warped emotions. There were far too many people here to handle and they were all so occupied with each other.

 

He didn’t stoop to attention-seeking, which he felt was his one redeemable factor. He didn’t dramatically lament about his own life problems, but he had a particularly nasty habit of forcing himself to listen to other people’s problems, even if it hurt him.

 

Especially if it hurt him.

 

Did that make him a masochist? Some kind of emotional masochist? Was that even a thing? Whatever, it didn’t matter.

 

None of this mattered. He told himself that every night, hoping that when he woke up, if he woke up, it was all disappear and he’d be met with the familiar ceiling of solidarity and loneliness.

 

It was better to feel alone with nobody around that to feel alone with friends.

 


End file.
